More Than Words
by Beckers
Summary: On an island inhabited by warring tribes Grief, Isabele and Mo must face cannibals, a deadly storm and - for David & Isabelle - their own desires.
1. Chapter 1

The following fan fiction was written for entertainment purposes only. It was not meant to infringe on any rights given to the holders of TALES OF THE SOUTH SEAS. No profit is being made by the distribution of this fan fiction. Please do not take any part of this fiction from this site without permission from the author.  
For more information RE: TALES OF THE SOUTH SEAS. Please go to my website at:  
http://beckers13.tripod.com/TalesoftheSout/TOTSSx.html  
  
  
  
TOTSS.  
"More Than Words"  
by Beckers  
  
  
**"You and this woman have got some kind of strange connection going on ...."  
Mauriri to David Grief about he and Isabelle from "The Locket"**  
  
  
  
  
Chapter One:  
  
  
  
"David," Mauriri called up from the cargo hold of The Rattler, "When are we shoving off? It's getting late."  
  
"As soon as her highness, Isabelle, graces us with her presence." Captain Grief replied, watching from a distance on the deck as the woman and her friend walked on the sandy beach to the dingy which awaited her. Grief leaned thoughtfully against the ship's sturdy mast, concentrating on what he was witnessing.   
  
Their partner, she who paid the bills and who now scheduled he and Mauriri's current shipping and receiving schedule, was currently very distracted. Isabelle and Samuel Pederson kissed a long good-bye near the shore. Eventually she sat in the dingy and he shoved it into the water. David noted how he waved to her and Isabelle did the same, nearly dropping one of the oars into the ocean water as she stroked.  
  
She was costing them time and money and someone had to tell her about it.  
  
***  
  
"You told me to tell you if I ever thought you weren't keeping up with your end of the bargain. I'm telling you, you're not." Grief, bent slightly at the waist, was rummaging through his tackle box, taking inventory of his meager fishing supplies. He needed to stock up and soon."It's not all your fault. I know you've been distracted. It happens." Then he added, "Believe me, I know it happens."  
  
"Don't do that, David." Isabelle warned, pulling at the collar of her blue jacket. The weather was unseasonably cool for this time of year. "Samuel is not an obsession for me. I am totally capable of keeping a private life and a business life."   
  
"Then why were you late this morning? You're never late."  
  
Isabelle started to answer then stopped. She couldn't just tell him that she and Samuel had indulged in a little good-bye loving before she got dressed and walked out with him to the dingy. "I'm sorry." she said, "Time just got away from me." Then Isabelle's eyes narrowed as she noted David concentrating a bit too hard on a bottle of three year old fish pellets, "What do you have against Samuel, anyway? He likes you and is very grateful for your help."  
  
Grief dropped the pellets into his tackle box and looked directly at Isabelle, "I don't think he's good enough for you."   
  
The Rattler had pulled anchor at half past dawn, when the weather was good and promised to stay calm at least until the ship brought he and his companions to the island of Tangi. The natives there had set up a rather prosperous trade-sell business and were eager for European business. Most of their items, particularly horse flesh, were reportedly over-priced but with a good negotiator a fair deal could be found. Isabelle Reed was, indeed, a lady who knew how to negotiate her way into a good deal. She could do well for them all.  
  
Isabelle looked up at David with wide, unbelieving eyes, "How can you say that?" she questioned, "Samuel and I are cut from the same cloth. He's trying desperately to change his life, just as I have."  
  
"And he's doing it all with your hard earned money, Isabelle."  
  
"He's making lucrative business deals for me and I'm paying him a commission."  
  
Grief paused and looked at her, "Sometimes I just can't believe how you, the woman of the world you claim to be, can be so naïve. First there was that business with Roger Addison then there was the gold fiasco with Walsh. Now *this* guy who is so obviously using you."  
  
With an effort to remain calm, Isabelle gently bit her bottom lip. It was true, all of it, but Grief was forgetting something. "David, did you have these *same* feelings when you helped me about thirteen months ago?" she asked. "Was *I* not good enough for you? Is that why *we* never ...?"  
  
"That was different. I was involved." Grief responded, turning again to his tackle box, hiding a look of discomfort and slight dread. "Besides, instinct told me you had the strength of character to make it on your own." Then he smiled and glanced in her direction, "You've proven my instincts correct."  
  
Isabelle accepted the compliment with a grin of her own although she was well aware that it was a diversion from her original question, "There are times, David Grief, when you have to go with your heart, as you did with me. You knew what was right for the both of us back then ... about a lot of different matters. It was a great judgment call if I do say so myself."  
  
Now he chuckled, "I often wonder why I *did* help you. You've been nothing but trouble ever since."  
  
Isabelle knew why he helped her. She'd seen it in David's eyes the first time they spotted one another. There she was, in chains, accused of murdering her French lover, and David had been drawn in by desire and a sincere belief Isabelle hadn't committed the crime for which she was accused. There was nothing more alluring for a man like Grief than an attractive woman who needed him. He said himself he had a past that haunted him with regards to this topic. There had been another woman, much like her, who needed him. He didn't help that girl when he could, finding out later she was innocent of her crimes, but he would not make the same mistake again.   
  
David *had* been her knight in shining armor for awhile, pulling Isabelle out of trouble and relishing that feeling of accomplishment when all his tricks and cunning did what they were supposed to do. She was found innocent and released. Then, to his dismay, she had set up shop in Tahiti. Horse breeding, renting and selling. She still found herself amused when recalling the expression on his face when he found she would be about as both competition and temptation.  
  
Still, facts were facts.  
  
"David, if you hadn't helped me," Isabelle reminded with a humorous smile, "if you hadn't taken that risk, you would currently be out a ship and your best friend." Then she quickly added, "No need to thank me." Isabelle turned her head, the wind blowing random strands of her dark hair about her neck and shoulders. Again, she hid a smile. Yes she had helped him in return, a sort of compensation for all he had done for her. Months ago Isabelle was instrumental in David mending fences with Mauriri after it seemed the two friends would never speak and partner again. A terrible time helped by several large bottles of brandy and an all night talk, instigated by both Isabelle and Lavinia. She also paid up Grief's debt while he was on a one man quest to find the truth about a piece of baggage he had no business ever falling in love with. Isabelle did it all for more than one reason but mostly because she valued David Grief and didn't want to see his life ruined because he, like her, had made feeble-minded mistakes.   
  
Unfortunately, despite an obvious attraction, when all was said and done Grief once again pushed Isabelle away. She expected it. Early on David had been deeply in love with Lavinia but even when he and the beautiful bar keeper split up he could not see himself with Isabelle. It hurt a little, especially when he began to take up with other women. First, Veronica Gray then the deplorable Jenny Duval.   
  
Isabelle grimaced once again at the thought of Jenny. "He thinks the world of you." she had said to Isabelle. Strange how from that woman's mouth it sounded so incredibly insincere. Yet David had believed everything she told him. He loved her. Even now, once in awhile, Isabelle would spy David looking out into the ocean, deep in thought, and she wondered if he was thinking about Jenny. They had never found the woman's body.  
  
"Do you really trust him?" David suddenly asked.  
  
"What?" Isabelle blinked, jousted out of her thoughts.  
  
"Pederson. You really haven't known him that long but you're trusting him with a lot of important business matters. You better be careful Isabelle."  
  
"You know me better than that, David. I'm not going to put myself in a financial hole over a man. I'm too selfish. But I must say," she suddenly beamed in a dreamy fashion, "he was very concerned when I told him I was going on this hop to the island. Samuel's a thoughtful man."  
  
"So why isn't he here with you?"  
  
"I told him to stay at the stable, to keep an eye on things while I'm away."  
  
"Did you tell him or did he tell you?"  
  
Samuel Pederson had shown up at the bar one morning, just over a month ago, recently released from prison. He told Grief a tale of woe. He was looking for work. He seemed a nice enough chap and David felt sorry for him. He suggested he look up Isabelle. She might have an odd job for him to do around the stable. Little did David know the former inmate was going to wheedle himself into her heart and bed. Certainly he was good looking enough but there was something cold in his eyes that made Grief believe, unlike Isabelle, the man was not yet ready to give up his thieving ways. He made it his business to keep an eye out on Pederson.  
  
Still, weeks had passed with no problems. The man cleaned up well, tall with blond hair and piercing green eyes, and Isabelle hadn't a single complaint. Still, David couldn't get past the idea that Pederson was a cad. He was sorry he had ever introduced the man to his friend. Grief, more than any other, was well aware how love could blind a person to their lover's true objective.  
  
Isabelle was growing weary of the conversation. "David, you've never taken an interest in my personal life before so why are you acting like a jealous school boy now?"  
  
"We're partners, remember? What affects you affects me."  
  
"That's only where The Rattler is concerned. He is strictly my horse-man." she reminded.  
  
"Isabelle," David straightened, forced to confess and looking slightly uncomfortable doing it, "I don't want to see you hurt again. Marcel Pinette ..."  
  
"Ancient history, David."  
  
"History has a way of repeating itself."  
  
Mauriri, at the wheel of the Rattler, watched and listened as his partners argued back and forth. He shook his head at the futility of it all. They bickered like a married couple. Sometime he wondered why David didn't just take the plunge with Isabelle. Maybe there really was something there. At least if they slept together, even if it was just one night, he could get her out of his system and move on. Yet, having thought that, Mauriri reconsidered. There had always been something strange between these two, an odd bonding they couldn't see but he felt right away. Early on it disturbed Mauriri because he felt Isabelle bad news. Not only had she lied to them but she threatened David's relationship with Lavinia. However, the better he got to know Isabelle the more Mauriri respected her. Hell, she had saved his life! Often times Mauriri would think back on that time when the Rattler had been grounded and he managed to get himself stabbed with a sharp length of wood. The fever and hallucinations were all he recalled of that time but later, when he found it was Isabelle who took care of him, pulling the wood-dagger from his side and making sure all was well both internally and externally, he had been grateful. She was a good person and, as much as he hated to admit it, she and David were well matched. If only Captain Grief himself could see it.  
  
Unexpectedly distracted by a rumble in the distance Mauriri looked up, his dark Polynesian eyes noting a change in the atmosphere. Black clouds were beginning to drift in and the wind was making it hard to steer the Rattler. "David," he called, "I think we're heading into a storm."  
  
Grief looked up at the sky, also noting the change. "Dammit." he murmured, "What's the closest island?"  
  
"Baritonga." Mauriri answered.  
  
"Oh David, do we have to go there? Can't we just continue on or go around it?" Isabelle asked.  
  
"It's not safe and I don't want to risk the Rattler."  
  
Disappointed, Isabelle nodded.  
  
"Let's head on in and drop anchor." he called to Mauriri then looked to the woman, noting her regret. "The storm will probably blow over in a few hours, Isabelle. Tangi will still be there when we arrive."  
  
"Whatever you say." Isabelle said, unhappy and crossing discontented arms under her breasts. "After all, who am I to question the great Captain David Grief?"   
  
****  
((continue)) 


	2. Chapter 2

TOTSS:  
More Than Words  
by Beckers  
  
****  
  
Chapter Two:  
  
  
By the time anchor was dropped near Baritonga the skies above the little island were black and threatening. Grief debated with Mauriri. Should the three of them stay on the ship, riding the storm out below in the safety of the cargo hold, or risk going ashore? Both, despite Isabelle's reservations, eventually decided it would probably be best to row a dingy to the island. Once there they could meet with the Bari people, an intense but reasonable tribe of savages, and request sanctuary in one of their hut homes until the storm blew over.  
  
"A great uncle on my mother's side was a Bari." Mauriri had told Isabelle, noting her concern, as they pulled the small boat onto the wet sand. "They *should* welcome us with open arms."  
  
"*Should*?" she questioned, leery, automatically placing a hand on her hip to feel for the comfortable bulk of her gun.  
  
"They've only been semi-civilized for ten years." Mauriri half shrugged, realizing his reassurance was falling flat.  
  
"And you know how unpredictable some of these native tribes can be." Grief commented, adding to Isabelle's trepidation, lifting a small telescope from a clip attached to his belt. He put it to his eye and examined two routes in the distance. "We can either go left into the valley or take the longer route through the jungle."  
  
"I suggest the jungle." Mauriri said, "The trail to the valley is shorter but we'd have to pass by the Tonga tribe and that wouldn't be good."  
  
"Why?" asked Isabelle.  
  
"Cannibals."  
  
At this bit of information Isabelle looked directly at Grief's profile and arched her brows, "Somehow you thought going ashore would be *safer* than staying on the ship?"  
  
The trio pulled the dingy behind a shield of boulders, to keep it from floating away when the tide came in, then set off to find the Bari.  
  
***  
  
"The best laid plans of mice and men." Grief commented, shielding his eyes with one hand and holding Isabelle's arm, keeping her upright, with the other.  
  
Halfway through the jungle the skies finally let loose with a torrent of rain so powerful it blinded the visitors, making travel impossible. The wind was so fierce it took more energy for the men and woman to stand on their feet than realistically acceptable. Finally, it got to the point where they couldn't see the jungle floor only a few meters in front of them.  
  
Laboring to keep upright, Isabelle panted, "I've been threatened with drowning before but not while I was standing on sold ground!" and she began to cough, struggling with the effort to speak.  
  
"David! Here!" Mauriri had gone ahead of Grief and Isabelle and found just what they needed.   
  
It was a dark shallow cave, more of a crevice than anything else, but it served its purpose. They were out of the rain and now, with a small fire burning, all three were huddled together, waiting for a break in the storm.  
  
Miserable, Isabelle fussed with her dark hair, pulling the wet strands away from her pale face with a small ornate comb made from ivory. She had it nestled in her back pocket.  
  
"Never seen that before." David commented, shivering beside her, warming his hands over the fire and watching her.  
  
"The comb? Samuel gave it to me for my birthday."  
  
Grief stiffened a moment. "You had a birthday?"  
  
"Most people do."  
  
"When?"  
  
"A little over a week ago."  
  
"Why didn't you tell us?" Mauriri asked, also surprised.  
  
"No one asked." was her simple replied.  
  
"Happy birthday." both Grief and Mauriri spoke in unison then looked at one another.  
  
Isabelle barked a laugh and tried to hide her reaction with the comb. She found the entire situation quite funny. Here they were, three drowned rats stuck in a dark, cold cave during a deadly storm, possibly a typhoon, and her two partners were looking guilty because they hadn't been aware they missed her birthday. Isabelle said, "Don't worry about it. I didn't get a card from my brother either." but her smile faded slightly at this disclosure.  
  
Grief knew what she said was to alleviate their guilt but it just made him feel worse. He would have to do something for her once they got back to Tahiti. Perhaps he could arrange something with Lavinia at the bar, a small celebration amongst friends.  
  
Mauriri stared out the cave entrance, noting how the wind was vigorously whipping the palm trees about, "It looks like this storm is going take awhile to pass." he commented, "If it's all the same with you two I'm going over there and take a nap." He pointed over to a moss covered stone wall not far from them, "I was up at four a.m. after having slept only a few hours in the first place."  
  
Isabelle watched the muscular Polynesian drag himself over to the moss and make himself comfortable, "Why do you think so little sleep?" she whispered to David.  
  
"His daughter has the flu." Grief replied.  
  
"He should have stayed home to take care of her."  
  
"Mauriri had already committed himself to this trip. Besides, his wife is very capable."  
  
Isabelle noted the affection and slight envy in Grief's tone. He and Mauriri really were brothers. It would have been a terrible shame if they hadn't worked out their differences. "I'd like to meet her sometime."  
  
Grief glanced at Isabelle as she stared into the fire. That's right. She had never met Mauriri's better half. Grief had been her friend for over a year now but really didn't know anything about Isabelle Reed, other than she was beautiful and capable. Now, in the light of the fire, he could see the pain and longing in her expression. Isabelle had no real family and very few friends. His heart suddenly went out to her and he put an arm around the woman's shoulders. "I'm sure she'd like to meet you too."  
  
Smiling mildly, Isabelle continued to look into the fire and leaned into his half embrace, pleased with the warmth. "I like kids too. I bet his children are beautiful."  
  
They listened to Mauriri's gentle snoring.  
  
"They are. Sometimes they call me Uncle David ..." he trailed off.  
  
The couple then looked at one another, aware of a closeness, caught up by the soft glow from their fire and the warmth of each other's bodies.  
  
David lifted a hand to touch her damp hair, sliding a gentle finger down her smooth cheek. He looked deeply into Isabelle's blue eyes and was acutely aware of sensations he hadn't allowed himself to feel or think about for months. Isabelle had once told David Grief he would never totally get over her influence on him and, by God, she was right. He fought this attraction for a long time, not entirely certain he could trust Isabelle but also disquieted with the way she made him feel. Grief continually told himself he was not a man to settle with just one woman, one reason he had allowed Lavinia to slip from his grasps. Yet, when Grief was around Isabelle, watching the woman do all the things he did with, perhaps, even more confidence and panache, it unsettled him. Could he *just* have a love affair with a woman that so plainly mirrored his own spirit and passion? And, if he did, would she demand more from him when all was said and done? Isabelle could be damn well vindictive when she wanted to be.  
  
The fierce wind outside reached its zenith, pulling trees from the ground and knocking large stones together above the mountain the threesome were huddled underneath.   
  
Isabelle closed her eyes quickly and held David tightly. She was so afraid and hated that he was here to witness it. The last thing Isabelle wanted was to be weak in David Grief's eyes. Yet his arms, as he held her, were comfortable, kind and secure. Slowly but surely, Isabelle felt her blood begin to stir ...  
  
David gulped slightly and looked over to Mauriri, still unawake. That man could sleep through anything. He felt Isabelle shiver from more than the cold, "It's okay." he whispered, the scent of her rain-soaked hair mesmerizing him. He couldn't deny it. He wanted her, craved her touch, but fought his desires ... until she looked up into his eyes. No. Not just a love affair. Not just a one night stand. Not just an adventure ...  
  
Isabelle felt herself losing a battle to remain composed. His very touch was making her pulse race and when his lips moved in to touch hers she could not help reaching for him. She pulled David Grief closer, feeling the heat of his powerful body as his arms held her, his mouth crushing against hers in a torrent of pent up passion and, dare she think it, adoration.   
  
Kissing deeply they slowly fell backward together in front of the blaze.  
  
"Wait, wait ..." Isabelle, suddenly cognizant, gasped and gently pushed David from her. She struggled into a sitting position, "Oh David, I'm sorry. What am I thinking?" she apologized, pulling at her blue blouse where a few of the buttons had come undone in front.  
  
"What's the matter?" Grief asked, panting, unsettled and almost frightened by the disruption.  
  
"Samuel." she explained, "He and I are trying to ... I mean we ...."  
  
It hit him suddenly and Grief nodded. Of course. "You're in love with him." he unexpectedly said, although the revelation gave him no pleasure.  
  
"In love?" Isabelle blinked, "I'm not sure." She put fingers to her temples, carefully massaging, as if attempting to clear her mind of the fervency she and David had just shared. "But I just can't have a romp with you while I'm trying to get my personal life in order with another man." She was stunned by how easy it was for her to let David Grief, not to mention her own lack of moral ethics, compromise her new found principles. "You may find it hard to believe but I'm just not that type of girl."  
  
"I know ... and even if I didn't know it I'm not the kind of guy who has a fling with a woman who's involved with another man." The words were true but 'fling' was hardly what he would describe as what he wanted with Isabelle Reed. Grief could have kicked himself. He had the worse timing of anyone he knew. A month ago, if they had been in this cave, experiencing the same situation, there would be no stopping the passion. Both he and Isabelle were free and he, for the most part, was over any remaining pain involved with either Lavinia or Jenny. It was time to move on. But now, here he was with a beautiful woman he'd been wanting, but he kept at arms length, for months. He was feeling all those old familiar, and not so familiar, emotions and now she wasn't his for the taking or giving.   
  
What had he expected? Was Isabelle supposed to wait around forever?  
  
***  
  
A little over two hours later, David Grief roused Mauriri. They were in the eye of the storm, an eerie moment of calm, and were ready to trek on into the Bari village to ride out the second half.   
  
Neither Isabelle or David spoke of what happened in the cave although they gave one another side glances occasionally as they walked the muddy path to their destination. Both were wondering what the other was thinking but, stubborn and slightly embarrassed, they kept their thoughts to themselves.  
  
"This is strange, David." Mauriri had commented.   
  
The closer they got to the Bari village the more on-edge the trio became. They heard no bird song or, for that matter, people sound. They should have heard something, even if it was just the villagers doing repair work before the next round of rain and wind.   
  
However, they did detect a strong chemical odor.  
  
Finally, entering the village, they realized why matters seemed out of the ordinary. The huts were all a shambles, some torn from their foundations and others burned to the ground. It might have been the fierce storm and, perhaps, that had been a contributing factor. Yet, the bodies lining the main road into the village, many missing limbs and vital organs, told another story.  
  
"Horses." Grief commented, looking at the many hoof prints on the ground. "Neither the Tonga or Bari ride. Or they *didn't*."  
  
Mauriri nodded, "Horses are sacred, only to be ridden by a tribal king or priest. No other."  
  
"And that chemical smell?" Grief questioned.  
  
"Kerosene." Isabelle said.  
  
"Brought here from the outside." Mauriri commented.  
  
"Where are the women and children?" Isabelle asked, noting neither among the dead.  
  
"If this was truly a Tonga attack they've taken them to use later." Mauriri answered.  
  
The cannibals had gotten the jump on the villagers while they were preparing for the storm. The men, some warriors and hunters and others simple farm workers, all lay dead where they had stood.  
  
"Could it be the Tonga have had dealings with the outside?" Grief asked his friend, "Is that possible?'  
  
"Everything here, except the kerosene and horses, indicate a Tonga attack."  
  
A little away from David and Mauriri Isabelle thought she heard a baby crying. Cautiously, she walked into one of the trashed huts. Seeing movement underneath a blanket, Isabelle slowly slid the covering away from where she heard the sound. She jumped back with a startled, "Oh." when a small cat-like creature sprang up and, frightened, ran out the opened door.   
  
Closing her eyes and catching her breath, Isabelle straightened and began to move toward the exit when she heard another sound. Breathing.  
  
She turned slowly and saw, in a darkened corner of the hut, a native man standing and staring at her. He raised what looked like a hollow bamboo tube to his lips and blew in her direction. The needle embedded into her throat and before Isabelle knew what was happening she collapsed first to her knees then entirely to the ground, unconscious.  
  
***  
  
((continue)) 


	3. Chapter 3

TOTSS  
"More Than Words"  
by Beckers  
  
  
  
Chapter Three:  
  
  
  
"Where's Isabelle?" Grief and Mauriri had been examining the immediate surroundings, checking a few of the mutilated Bari bodies for signs of life, when it came to their attention that the female member of their reconnaissance effort was nowhere in sight.  
  
"She was just here." Mauriri stood from his crouch and allowed his eyes to carefully rake over the disaster, which was once a thriving native village. Already the wind was beginning to pick up, turning over a table and chair and pulling half hanging thatch from a demolished roof. Thunder was heard in the distance. No better edict could be made that the second half of a violent storm was on its way.  
  
"Isabelle!" Grief called, unthinking.  
  
"David." Mauriri put a firm hand to his friend's shoulder and spoke quietly, "There may still be Tonga here somewhere."  
  
'If there are Tonga here and they've harmed her I'll cut their hearts out.' The thought came to David Grief simply and emotionally. It annoyed him. A form of uncharacteristic panic was clouding his usually methodical judgment. He had stayed alive, had gone through and survived all the adventures he'd undertaken, because David Grief was able to think beyond his heart. True, he occasionally went with his gut feelings and there had been a couple times in his life - most recently with Jenny Duval - where he had completely lost his grip but this, the disappearance of Isabelle, certainly wasn't akin to Jenny ... or was it? The very idea of losing himself again to an unresonable passion frightened Grief and he kept it to himself.   
  
Mauriri's grip on Grief's arm tightened. Silently, he mimed his friend's attention to a well constructed and still standing hut not very far from them. They could see movement, the flash of a bare dark shoulder, near a small hole which served as a window. Slowly, careful and quiet, they circled the hut. With purpose, Mauriri picked up a tree branch about the size and consistency of a medium sized club. Neither man were carrying firearms. When Isabelle said she was taking her gun they didn't think it necessary. They didn't want to provoke the restive Bari with a show of force.  
  
Without warning, the swinging door to the small hut was thrown wide open and a tall but very young native ran outside. He was quick and Mauriri, caught off guard, swung wide with his branch, missing clean. The native continued to run, with an inexperienced warrior's cry, and did not look back. Grief and Mauriri watched as he bolted into the jungle and were about to follow when a feminine gasp met their ears.  
  
Isabelle, in a sitting position and surrounded by litter, was leaning against a wood and grass thatched wall. She looked groggily up at Grief and Mauriri as they entered. "I didn't see him ..." she croaked, lifting the small needle the native, with his bamboo blower, had embedded into her neck.  
  
Mauriri took it from her palm and examined the tip, carefully.  
  
Grief knelt beside Isabelle, tilting her head back to look into her eyes, to examine the woman's pupils, "Poison?" he asked Mauriri.  
  
"It's a sedative taken from the Shunez flower. Local vegetation. My great uncle said the Tonga use it to sedate their victims without releasing toxins into the blood. It's fast acting but doesn't last long."  
  
"Smart. If they're going to devour a guest they don't want their meal tainted." Grief spoke with slight sarcasm, disguising relief, then touched Isabelle's cheek with reassurance. "You'll be fine."  
  
She smiled weakly and nodded.  
  
"Yeah, but she's going to need time for recovery." Mauriri glanced out of the opened door to the area of the jungle where the native disappeared. "David, one of us has to go after him." The Polynesian crouched down to Grief and Isabelle's level, "He'll lead us to the others. We've got to rescue those women and children."  
  
"I know, Maur, but were still in the eye of a storm. If that wind outside is any indicator it's coming in fast. We won't stand a chance of getting to the Tonga encampment before it strikes."  
  
"The three of us, no." Mauriri considered, "but that savage is leaving a trail *now*, David. If we wait it will be gone by the time we start tracking him. The storm will destroy it. Who knows how many will have died in the meantime." Mauriri looked from his friend to Isabelle then back to Grief again, pressing. "Children, David. I can't have that on my conscience."  
  
"Me neither." Grief agreed with a sough, torn by their friendship, concern and what was right.  
  
Isabelle, noting the conflict in both men's expressions, attempting to speak as clearly as she could under the circumstances, "You both go. I'll be fine. The hut held together through one storm. It will stay up again." Then, when she saw their skepticism, "I just need to rest a little. I'll follow. Promise."  
  
Appreciating her spirit, Grief touched Isabelle's arm. "Nice try." he said then looked at Mauriri who was equally as impressed by their partner's mettle, "Go Maur, but be careful. If you get to a point where you can't move-on then find someplace to hole up. We'll wait here until it clears and catch up."  
  
"I'll try to leave markers." Clasping Grief's hand, Mauriri said: "Good luck, my friend."  
  
"And to you."  
  
"Wait." Isabelle spoke softly, lifting her gun from its holster, "Take this, just in case." She then weakly smiled, "It didn't do me much good but it could help ..." she hesitated briefly, "You need to go home to your wife and children ..." and she trailed off, unfocused, losing the rest of her thought due to her drugging.  
  
"Thank you, Isabelle." Mauriri took the gun, looking at the woman with fresh respect. "I'll see you both later."  
  
***  
  
The hut they were in was some kind of storage room. Barrels of native wine and other staples such as dried foods, woven bed linens and tools were strewn about the room to be used during some future time.  
  
Outside, the wind gusts were constant and the first heavy drops of rain fell.   
  
Inside, Grief and Isabelle got busy. Together they moved wine barrels near the one and only opening, blocking the door and it's excessive swinging. Isabelle took a blanket and nailed it over the window Grief and Mauriri had originally spied the Tonga warrior through.   
  
"No rain will get in through here." she said, flinching during a lightening flash and finding it difficult to keep her arms raised for any length of time. The drug was wearing off but she was still exhausted. Her eyes cast upward. "Hope the roof holds."  
  
"It held the first time." Grief quoted what Isabelle stated earlier, zig-zagging rope through a support beam and bamboo closures to keep the door and walls from fly loose and away from the hut during the brunt of the storm. It added an extra iota of stability to an already sound structure. "I think that should do it."  
  
"I'm glad the Bari take construction seriously."  
  
"They've gone through more than one tropical storm."  
  
Finally, when there was no more they could do except listen to the wind howl and the rain fall, both Grief and Isabelle sat on a large mat next to each other on the dirt packed floor.  
  
There was a contemplative silence between them for a few minutes.  
  
"I'm sorry, David." Isabelle all at once said, troubled, bringing her knees up to her chin.  
  
"Sorry for what?" he asked, struck by the vulnerability in her profile.  
  
"You should be out there with Mauriri, protecting his back. I know, in your heart, it's what you want. Instead you're in here with me."  
  
"It's true." he said, inciting a double-take from Isabelle. "I'd much rather be out there, facing gale-force winds and cannibals than being stuck in a one room hut, safe and warm, with a beautiful woman."  
  
She smiled and chuckled with him for the first time in a long while.  
  
Grief found himself pleased it was he who brought the sparkle back into Isabelle's eyes. Come to think of it, Grief considered, he hadn't seen total pleasure in her expression for a long time. 'For a month at least.' something inside him prompted. Wasn't love supposed to make a female 'glow with joy'? Seems Samuel Pederson hadn't yet managed to elicit all the responses necessary to make a woman come alive with that certain ambiguous something which told all she was his and would never belong to another.   
  
Isabelle, listening to the wind and thunder, found herself disturbed by thoughts in a similar vein. Why was it earlier, when she had seen the native who attacked her, when she thought her life was at an end due to fast acting poison, it was not Samuel who popped into her mind but Captain Grief? For a split second she could see David in her mind's eye approaching William, Isabelle's brother, telling him how terribly sorry he was that she hadn't survived. Isabelle could see tears in Grief's eyes and, in a bizarre way, it was comforting for her to know that he cared enough to feel emotion regarding her passing. But, of course, that was just a fantasy ...  
  
"Kerosene." Grief suddenly said.  
  
Isabelle looked at him, "What?"  
  
"Can you smell it?" he stood.  
  
Isabelle followed, "Yes, I do. Stronger than ever."  
  
Sniffing, both slowly approached the barrels in front of the exit. They kneeled when their senses told them where the offending smell was coming from. Grief turned a barrel about slowly. An invoice was stuck to the side and he gently peeled at the label and looked carefully to see where the kerosene came from, "Been doing business with the Bari, Isabelle?" he asked, handing the form to her.  
  
She took it from him slowly, a deep fear then sorrow clouding her otherwise lovely features, "Until we came here I didn't even know these people existed." she said, staring at what *appeared* to be her signature on the bottom on the invoice. It wasn't but she recognized the handwriting. It sent a shockwave to her now rapidly beating heart.  
  
"Not only the Bari but the Tonga have also been doing business with Reed Enterprises." Grief punched the top of another barrel. Inside was gunpowder. "The attack on the village earlier today, the horses and burning. The violence. The two tribes are at war, Isabelle."  
  
"Someone is using my resources and my good name. When the whole thing blows up, "she glanced at the barrel of gunpowder, "a finger will be pointed. I'll be the naïve entrepreneur who will take the fall."   
  
"Someone is making a profit off of this." Grief looked steadily at Isabelle.  
  
She returned his gaze, pain in her eyes. "It's not me, David. I swear."  
  
He believed her. No, it wasn't Isabelle. She was a steadfast business woman but not ruthless. She had learned a valuable lesson long ago about the taking of lives for profit. This treachery had been done by someone she trusted, a man who had touched her heart, a fiend who went behind her back, using her stellar commercial reputation and money for his own benefit. What had the Tonga and Bari given Samuel Pederson in return? Probably gold, silver or a number of other rare minerals found on these islands. Grief almost said he was sorry but knew Isabelle would hate sympathy, particularly from him. Instead, he touched her arm and nodded. "We'll work it out." he promised.  
  
"Thought I was being so careful." she whispered, searching her memory for past signs of Pederson's lies. "Thought I *knew* him ..." Then her blue eyes, glistening ever so slightly with the pain of betrayal, looked up into his. "Is this the part where you say 'I told you so.'?" she asked with a near sob, recalling their conversation aboard The Rattler.  
  
"No." David Grief spoke firmly but tenderly, "This is the part where a good friend puts his arms around you and tries to make it better."  
  
Hating her frailty but unable to prevent the tears, Isabelle accepted his responsive embrace and cried against Grief's chest, absorbing his kindness, loyalty and, yes, perhaps even a little love.  
  
*****  
  
((continue)) 


	4. Chapter 4

Tales of the South Seas:  
"More Than Words"  
  
  
  
Chapter Four:  
  
  
  
  
They were lucky. The storm had come and gone in about two hours and although rain battered the hut, wind blew viscously, and there was a great deal of thunder and lightening, everything remained pretty much in its proper place. There were a few nervous moments, however, especially at one point during the storm's peak when the roof, the entire hut, appeared ready to lift up and crash somewhere in the deep, dark jungle.   
  
Isabelle, who had been trying hard to put up a brave front for both she and Grief's sake, cried out in fear at this time and threw herself into a dark corner, anguished and weeping. She hated to show fragility of any kind, especially when David Grief was there to witness it, but could not help recalling a terrible time from her past:   
  
Once, as a child, Isabelle had seen a man killed because of unfavorable weather conditions. He was struck by lightening during a terrible storm. Later, when the danger had passed, clutching a much loved but battered doll to her chest, little Isabelle Reed had gone into the field where she saw him fall. She found him and could see his wide, dead eyes staring at her, his flesh burned and scarred. Isabelle could practically hear him telling her *she* should have the one to die, not him. That memory stayed with her into adulthood and, recalling it, seeing that man again in a vision, perhaps feeling it was her turn to die, Isabelle panicked. The dead man had turned, his hands raised to touch her, to welcome the woman into his world of cold, violent death ...   
  
Yet, in reality, it was David Grief who was touching her. He sat beside the frightened Isabelle on the floor, putting his arms around her, afraid himself, yet feeling comforted when she looked up at him, realizing who he was, and holding him as he was clutching her. They took strength and security in one another. Two breakable human beings near the brink of demise, sharing a very human moment, needing each other to stay intact.  
  
Later, when Grief examined his disaster prevention handiwork, he would remember their terror with a chuckle. The anchor ropes hadn't frayed. They'd done well.   
  
Yet, it had felt good to know he and Isabelle were there for one another. *Too good*, Grief thought with not just a little concern.  
  
In the aftermath, Isabelle was unusually quiet. She kept busy, helping Grief move barrels and other heavy objects from the door, stealing occasional glances at the gunpowder and kerosene drums. She was coming to terms with Pederson's deception and what it might mean to her and the future of Reed Enterprises. She still felt incredibly foolish, having been taken in by his deception, but was consoled by the knowledge that Pederson was a professional con man. Grief told her he had probably done this type of scam all over the globe. She wasn't the first to believe in his lies but, if David had anything to say about the situation, she would be the last.  
  
Grief could only imagine the fireworks which were going to take place once Isabelle cornered Pederson about his unauthorized and illegal business dealings. It had been a temptation to press her, asking Isabelle what she intended to do now that she knew the truth, but Grief kept quiet.   
  
Whatever the outcome, he and Mauriri would be there for her.  
  
Mauriri ...  
  
"I'm sure he's fine." Isabelle said, using a Bari hunting knife to help cut away the door's reinforcement rope, and - as if reading Grief's mind - "Mauriri is one of the strongest men I've ever seen. And smart."  
  
"And determined." Grief added, "It wouldn't surprise me if he's already infiltrated the Tonga encampment. We better hurry if we hope to catch up with him."  
  
Isabelle nodded and slipped the decorative hunting knife into the side of her boot. Taking one last look around, she followed Grief out the door.   
  
****  
  
Mauriri waited out the brunt of the storm inside the hollow of a huge tree. It had been cramped and uncomfortable. He was certain he'd been bitten by some undetermined blood sucking insect. Nevertheless, once the worst of the wind and rain passed the Polynesian continued the trek until he came to an area of the island inhabited by the Tonga.   
  
The young man who ran from the Bari village was not a seasoned warrior, leaving a more than traceable trail.   
  
"One of my own children could follow this." he reflected. The thought of Tahnee and Tevaki caused Mauriri's heart to skip a beat. He doubted the storm had reached as far as his own home island but if it had Leani could handle whatever problems that might arise. Mauriri's wife had lived all her life in Tahiti, as had he, and was well versed on what to do when Mother Nature took a turn for the worse.   
  
With practiced stealth, Mauriri moved about the perimeter, holding Isabelle's gun loosely in his hand, looking into their encampment. He saw the native men surrounding a campfire, discussing something with great enthusiasm. Either the storm or their latest kill. He couldn't quite make out all the words, the island dialect slightly foreign to his ears, but he knew, from the way they were glancing over their shoulders to a large tent, that it did not bode well for those inside.  
  
A few Tonga women, past their prime and not very winsome, were also gathered together, sorting through what the men had brought back from their raid. They seemed fascinated by beaded necklaces and other trinkets. One woman lifted up a delicately woven blouse, possibly a marriage garment, and laughed merry during a verbal exchange.   
  
Focusing again on the tent, Mauriri fought indecision. Should he commence a rescue now or wait until Grief showed up to assist?  
  
The answer to his question came with a hard impact to the back of his head. Mauriri pitched forward having never seen the young Tonga warrior who had doubled back when he realized he was being followed.  
  
***  
  
"Tell me I did not do this!" Grief shouted, now up to his waste in warm, slimy quick sand.  
  
"Stay still, David. I'm getting a branch." Isabelle replied, near laughter in her voice as she quickly search for something to pull the man out.  
  
The trail had been well marked by Mauriri, despite storm damage, but when the ground started to become slightly less cohesive and, eventually, when Grief found himself sinking, they knew a wrong turn had been made somewhere.  
  
"Don't rush on my account." Grief snapped, watching her and folding his arms in disgust, across his broad chest. He was angry with himself, saw it coming, but continued to trudge on. Isabelle fell behind and kept telling him that it didn't feel right to her but Grief didn't listen. He was certain Mauriri would soon be in their sight.  
  
"Here." Isabelle, standing at the edge of the quicksand pit, pointed a limb in his direction and he grabbed it, allowing her to pull and drag him slowly to the edge. She then tossed the branch aside and took his hands. Isabelle pulled Grief, with all her might, the rest of the way out of the pit and felt him, eventually, collapse atop her.  
  
They were both exhausted and did not move for a few moments.  
  
Grief looked down at her, his face very close to Isabelle's, as she stared up into his eyes. "Thank you." he whispered, not yet moving and not really knowing why.  
  
"You're welcome." she answered, nearly breathless, uncertain. 'Shouldn't you be pushing him away?' a voice in her inner mind asked. Isabelle had no response for the voice.  
  
Clearing his throat, remembering there was a bigger mission afoot, David blinked. "Mauriri." he said, focusing.  
  
Isabelle nodded, "Yes." and, with regret, felt him fall away from her.  
  
Retracing their steps, the couple continued to trudge on in search of their friend and the Bari prisoners.  
  
****  
  
Mauriri woke with a splitting headache, the knowledge that his hands were bound behind his back, and the sound of concerned female voices.  
  
"He's awake."  
  
With a shake of his head, clearing the fog from his vision, Mauriri centered on the speaker and raised himself into a sitting position. He could understand her. She was a handsome woman, slightly older than himself, with long, dark hair and a stern expression.  
  
"You're not of our tribe. Who are you?" she asked, firmly.  
  
Mauriri answered, explaining how the stormed forced he and his friends to anchor and row to land. He looked around the tent. All women, whimpering children, and a few incoherent, wounded men. "When we came to your village we saw what happened and thought we might be able to help."  
  
"They caught us by surprise." the woman said, eyeing him suspiciously, "As they obviously did you."  
  
"Has anyone here attempted an escape?" Mauriri asked.  
  
The woman paused, momentarily unsettled, then relenting. "Two. One was brought back and the other killed." she replied, "From what we've been able to gather, the female population of Tonga is seriously depleted. They need women to replace those who have been killed, died from illness, or whatever." Then, in answer to Mauriri's next question, "They need us to bear their children. New warriors to replace the old." She glanced over her shoulder at the few wounded men occupying corners of the tent. She spoke low, "The men here don't stand a chance. The only reason the Tonga kept them alive was for ..."  
  
"... fresh supplies." Maurriri took up the sentence with a grimace, now understanding why he too remained alive. The savages merely thought him another Bari, a stupid one at that, having come into their encampment. He took a breath, "Are all your men dead?"  
  
"I don't think so. Some had to of escaped. We were hoping for a rescue effort soon."  
  
"Let's hope, along with David and Isabelle, they do as expected."  
  
Three Tonga warriors entered the tent, looked about, and agreed. The larger of the three pointed to an elderly man to the back, surrounded by children.  
  
The anguished woman, looking from the warriors to Mauriri, whispered "Dinner."  
  
****  
  
At the outer edge of the encampment, Grief picked up Isabelle's gun from where Mauriri had dropped it.  
  
"Not good." Isabelle whispered, taking the weapon from him and holstering it. "At least we know he made it this far."  
  
Slowly, the couple traveled the circumference of the encampment until they reached an area closest to the tent. Grief listened closely, hearing voices inside, and looked at Isabelle who seemed to understand what he was thinking. If it was a prison tent then Mauriri and the others should be inside. Yet, if they were, where was the defense? Shouldn't warriors be guarding them?  
  
In answer, a muscular native warrior with a spear crossed in front of them, not seeing the couple as they crouched and pushed back into the foliage. He turned, as did David and Isabelle, when a commotion erupted from the front flap of the tent. An old man was being dragged out. He was frightened but it was the female cries from inside that caused most of the distraction.  
  
Grief stood abruptly, hit the diverted native powerfully against the back of his hard head and drug him into the bushes behind he and Isabelle.  
  
With a determined smile, Isabelle lifted her knife, and pointed to the direction she was headed. I'll get the women and children out of the back of the tent and head them home. You find Mauriri and," she glanced in the direction to where the native man was being carried by the Tonga warriors, "if you could save that poor old man that would be good too."  
  
"Anything else?" Grief asked her, half serious and half joking.  
  
"Yes, be careful, David." Isabelle unholstered her gun once again and handed it back to Grief.  
  
  
*****  
  
(continue) 


	5. Chapter 5

Tales of the South Seas:  
"More Than Words"  
  
  
Chapter Five:  
  
  
  
  
She crawled on her hands and knees, soundlessly creeping to the back of the large gray tent. Then, with her sharp bladed Bari knife, Isabelle felt for a flexible piece of fabric, certain no one was positioned on the other side, and slowly inserted the hard bone, slicing the burlap in a downward arch. Once done, she lay the blade aside on the muddy ground and placed her hands on either side of the tent fabric, carefully ripping.  
  
Isabelle was about to stick her head inside, announcing a rescue, when someone with a powerful, yet oddly feminine, grip seized one of her hands and pulled. Her slim body was halfway inside and Isabelle had hissed, "Dammit!" before she realized Mauriri was kneeling before her, a powerfully built but attractive native woman to his side. Isabelle smiled up at him, relieved to see her Polynesian friend better than expected.  
  
Mauriri motioned behind him, to his tied hands, and Isabelle cut the bounds. "Where's David?" he asked, massaging his wrists.  
  
"Out front being a distraction while I'm here." she replied. "He was going to find you but now that I have, and you haven't been turned into Mauriri stew, I suggest you help him save a Bari man." Isabelle reached behind her and produced the knife. She handed it to him. "Protection, just in case." she said.  
  
Mauriri nodded then, with a brief smile at the Bari woman who had been so helpful to him, slipped out the back and slowly rounded the tent. To Mauriri's right he could see the natives gathered around their pleading victim, near the campfire, discussing the best way to flay him. To his left Mauriri saw a corral with ten healthy young horses. He did not catch sight of David Grief but hoped his friend could see him and would follow through with what Mauriri was preparing to attempt.   
  
The Polynesian moved to his left, sliding nearly nonchalantly over to the corral, and lifted the latch. The gate swung open wide. Mauriri then shouted, smacking one of the beasts on its rounded rump and watched as the horses, at full gallop, tore through the encampment on their way to freedom.  
  
Grief then appeared from a hiding place, behind an area that was the home of a stockpile of kerosene and gunpowder. He instantaneously raced to where the natives had arisen, near their campfire and sacrifice, punching out at a Tonga that swung a hatchet at him. Grief grasped the old native man by the arm and urged him to go passed the tent where Isabelle appeared. She was waving her arms to get his attention.   
  
Mauriri, ready and willing to do battle after all the physical abuse he had taken, used his skills to kick and swing, felling two of the natives. Another snuck up on him from behind, ready to spear him, but Mauriri heard Grief's shout of warning and turned quickly. Without further thought, he grasped the knife Isabelle had given to him earlier and threw it with pin point precision, the blade entering into the native's skin and heart. He fell before he realized he was struck and dying.  
  
"David, the Bari are on their way home!" Isabelle shouted, running to him from her position near the tent, slapping a naïve Tonga out of her way.  
  
Grief nodded, pulling the gun from his belt. "Isabelle! Mauriri! Run for the ship!"  
  
"What are you going to do?!"  
  
Grief aimed for a fuse near the kerosene and gunpowder barrels.  
  
Mauriri suddenly realized what Grief had been working on while hiding behind the drums.  
  
"Sorry I asked!" Isabelle called after the shot was fired. She ran with her friends, without stopping, all the way to the beach.   
  
The Rattler had never looked so inviting.  
  
In the distance, far behind them, the explosion was mind boggling.  
  
****  
  
One Week Later:  
  
"I don't believe it." Mauriri exclaimed, walking with David from Inspector Morlais office to Lavinia's bar, "How is it the Bari and the Tonga could hate each other one minute, declaring civil war, then are friends the next?"  
  
"Out of necessity, my friend." Grief offered, "Their supplies have been cut off. The Bari have very few men, the Tonga very few women and now that missionaries are on the island, no more cannibalism. They're learning to live together and, hopefully, a great alliance will form between Baritonga and their surrounding islands."  
  
"It'd be nice to see some good trade coming out of this. Particularly for Isabelle. Pederson cost her a lot of money."  
  
"He didn't cost her *just* money." Grief spoke with unexpected vehemence.  
  
The men entered the bar, their home away from home, and sat at their usual table. It was a busy Saturday night, both sailors and natives drinking, singing and hurling the occasional insult and profanity.  
  
Clare, approached Mauriri and Grief, her sunny smile a drastic contrast to their surroundings. "How can I help you gentleman?" she asked.  
  
"Working tonight, Clare?" Grief questioned.  
  
"Helping out." The young British woman spoke above the music from a piano playing not too far away, "Lavinia is on a date tonight and I promised her I'd keep watch."  
  
"Two whiskeys." Mauriri ordered. When Clare departed he looked at a thoughtful Grief, "Life goes on David." he said, assuming his friend was thinking about Lavinia and her date.  
  
"I know." Grief focused on his friend, "But I was actually thinking about Isabelle. You know, she's never had a birthday party."  
  
Mauriri nodded, "Yeah, I remember the conversation." but he studied his friend. Could David Grief be falling in love again? Mauriri didn't think it possible after losing Lavinia then Jenny all in the same year. Still, Isabelle Reed was a more than worthy replacement for either lady. Funny how he thought this now when, no that long ago, Mauriri would have been more than happy to see the woman out of Grief's life forever. "Think we should have a party or something?" Mauriri looked about, "Here?"  
  
Grief watched as two sailors began a drunken fist fight over a pretty native girl. "No," he said, "not here."  
  
***  
  
She watched the children from her sitting position on the sand. They were playing in the water and on the beach, running and laughing. Isabelle recalled a time, when she was very young, doing the same things. The world had seemed such a simple place back then. Her life had never been easy but she still held out hope that one day a handsome prince would come along and take her away from all her problems. That prince had never come but at least she had learned a few things along the way. She had become self-reliant. Dreamers never prosper.  
  
With a smile, Isabelle glanced over her shoulder to the porch of Mauriri and Leani's home. The couple were out front, trading affectionate barbs, and cleaning up after the party. It was a little late to celebrate her birthday but Isabelle sincerely appreciated the surprise. David had approached her a little earlier in the day, obviously in on or having organized the waylay, and asked Isabelle to come to this area of the island. He had his eye on a mare, he had said, although Isabelle could not guess what David Grief would do with a horse. She should have known better.  
  
Grief had been good about not asking her too many deep questions about Samuel Pederson. However, he had been there to see the man taken away in handcuffs by Lieutenant Morlais. It had been more than difficult for Isabelle to turn Samuel in but when she confronted him and he laughed, telling her she must be mistaken, Isabelle knew there was no turning back. Not only wouldn't he initially admit to the deception but he became angry and cruel. Pederson actually accused her of having an affair with Grief, the two of them setting him up for a fall. He had said as much to the police. However, in the end, Pederson admitted his involvement and was tried, convicted of war profiteering and embezzlement.  
  
Isabelle and her business had been exonerated entirely, the jury convinced Pederson had acted on his own. She doubted she'd get off as easily if she hadn't the backing of Grief and so many of her friends on the island. Colin and Clare were stellar characters witnesses and even Lavinia sent a letter to the magistrate, explaining how Reed Enterprises was instrumental in the on-going prosperity of many of the local businesses in Tahiti. Isabelle had been really surprised and touched by Lavinia contribution but she was always a woman of character and, for that reason alone, Isabelle respected her.  
  
"Hey," Grief suddenly appeared and sat beside Isabelle on the sand. He handed her a small package, wrapped with white tissue paper.  
  
"What's this?"  
  
"A belated birthday gift."  
  
She tore the tissue away and read the label of a small bottle of brandy.  
  
"Napoleon, 1865."  
  
Isabelle looked at Grief, slightly puzzled.  
  
"The first bottle of brandy we ever shared together." he explained with a smile.  
  
Isabelle laughed. How could she forget? Grief had brought the spirit to her, so long ago now, while she and a few other prisoners were in route to New Stanton, to be imprisoned for their crimes. They then drank together in the cargo hold and talked, among other things. He had been kind and deceptively noble back then. "It's been over a year since we shared a drink alone, David. Do you recall what happened last time we indulged?' she baited.  
  
He looked out at the ocean, watching the crashing waves and seagulls, and smiled, "I remember."  
  
Their kisses had been quite passionate back then.  
  
Isabelle's smile weaken and she grew thoughtful, "You've been a good friend to me." she said, "And one day I hope to find myself completely contrary to you."  
  
Puzzled, Grief looked at her profile. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I once came to you while we sailed on The Rattler and told you that I thought the two of us made sense. We have the same ambition and zest for life. We desire the same things. Do you remember what you told me?"  
  
"No."  
  
"You said you subscribe to the theory that opposites attract."  
  
Grief frowned, angered by his choice of words. She had come to him late at night and he was groggy. He knew he wanted her but, at the time, was involved with Lavinia. Of course, that didn't really mean he couldn't have a tryst. Both he and Lavinia had had their fair share of affairs but he held back with Isabelle for reasons he couldn't quite fathom at the time. She was beautiful and willing ... but she wasn't someone he could just have an affair with then toss aside. Like Lavinia before her, Isabelle rated more than a one night stand, even if she didn't know her own value back then. If he couldn't give her his full attention, his whole heart, they couldn't be together at all. It seemed such an odd thought coming from him back then but now he understood it completely.  
  
With a snap of her wrist, Isabelle opened the small bottle of brandy and took a sip.  
  
Yet, whether she was aware of it or not, Isabelle had changed. She still had ambition and lofty ideals but she had grown a softer side. Perhaps it had always been there but he chose to look the other way when it presented itself.  
  
A chilly breeze was in the air, sweeping through their hair. A wet mist from the ocean touched their faces. Grief placed a comfortable arm around Isabelle's shoulders, to warm her against the cold. Isabelle looked at David and passed the bottle to him. She smiled when he took a swing and gave it back to her.  
  
"You're the only person I've ever told this to ..." Grief began, " ... but there are times when I can actually be wrong."  
  
Chuckling, Isabelle took a last drink from the bottle and resealed it. "You've told me a secret so I'll tell you one." she said, "I know I should be heartbroken over Samuel and although I'm so very disappointed with what he did to me I'm not sorry he's gone. I'm not sure I was ever really ever in love with him. Not like I thought. Maybe I was just in love with the idea of being in love. He came to me when I was most vulnerable. And," she added, "he was good in bed."  
  
This time Grief laughed, "I like you priorities, Isabelle."  
  
She rested her head against his shoulder, "One of these days someone will come along and I'll know it's right. That day just hasn't come yet."  
  
Again Grief looked out into the ocean, this time slightly disheartened.  
  
'Or maybe he's closer than I think.' she added, mentally.  
  
"Happy Birthday, Isabelle." Grief said.  
  
"Thank you, David." she whispered back.  
  
They watched the sun set.  
  
  
THE END  
April 2002  
But - Hold it!  
  
v  
v  
v  
v  
  
**For those of you who like this ending and don't feel you need to read further the story has ended. However, for those of you who are currently scratching their heads and saying: "What, this is it?" ... please go to the Epilogue .... 


	6. Epilogue

Tales of the South Seas:  
"More Than Words"  
  
Epilogue:  
This section rated PG13  
  
  
***  
  
  
It was late and he lay restlessly aboard The Rattler.  
  
The day had been great, the party successful, but Grief never got a chance to tell Isabelle what was really on his mind. No, that wasn't entirely true. He had many chances but he just couldn't bring himself to say the words. She had pretty much made her decision. Isabelle was waiting for the right man and, right now, he wasn't it.  
  
*We make sense*. she had once said. Isabelle was right and only now was he coming to realize just how right she was.  
  
David Grief and Isabelle Reed were friends. That was something to be thankful for. She was a good lady, having turned her shady past around, and deserved a good man. She did not need someone in her life who traveled relentlessly about the South Seas looking for trouble seven days a week. On the other hand, Isabelle did signed on for that type of lifestyle herself when they became partners. 'Hell, what am I thinking?' Grief pondered. Miss Reed had been *living it* long before she met him! Isabelle had never been a woman who settled for the ususal, partly because she was so incredibly spirited.  
  
Grief punched his pillow and turned again, laying an arm over his naked chest. It was a warm night, adding to his discomfort. At this rate he was never going to fall asleep.  
  
"David ..." came a whisper.  
  
Grief sat up quickly in his bed and watched the woman, decked in a long, bulky wind-breaker, descend the dark stairs into his quarters. In one of her hands she held what looked like a carpet bag. "Isabelle, what is it?" he asked, fearing the worst.  
  
She stood there for a moment, looking at him, trying to get the words right. She had rehearsed them over and over again while she stroked the dingy to his ship. Yet, the only thing she could think of to say was in a form of an awkward question. "If we were to get together ... I wouldn't be a rebound affair, would I?"  
  
"Rebound ..."?" Grief was so stunned by her appearance and the question he didn't know how to answer.  
  
She came in further and stood straight in front of him as he sat up on the bed, "I mean, neither of us are saints." she said, "I might even understand if you felt you had to find satisfaction somewhere else once in awhile. It's not as if were picking out a China pattern together ... I just don't want to sleep with you a couple times and discover that it was a big mistake. I don't want to find out you're not experiencing the same feelings I am." Isabelle ran her lower lip between her teeth, struggling with her emotions. There was a time in her life where the mere idea of a casual love affair with David Grief was enough to set her blood afire. But now ... now she was looking for more. "If you were to suddenly become bored with me I don't think ..." Isabelle's voice began to quiver. She looked at his wide-eyed expression and suddenly got the impression she had misread ALL the signs, "Oh ... I'm sorry." Isabelle said quickly, in a small voice. "I made a huge error, didn't I?" She turned away, nervous and embarrassed, and started to make her way up the stairs.  
  
"Wait!" Grief propelled himself out of the bed and came up behind Isabelle. He pulled her shoulders back, resting the bulk of her weight against his broad chest, feeling her soft hair with his cheek and chin. "I don't know what type of promises I can make, Isabelle. But one thing I can say for certain, here and now, is that you are *not* a rebound affair. Never could be." He then turned her about so they were facing one another, looking deeply into her wide gray eyes. "I've learned a lot about myself in the last few months. I was always the man in control of my destiny. No sincere commitments other than business. It was my moto. I had planned to live by it all my life."  
  
"But Lavinia ..."  
  
"I cared for Lavinia and I did try to be faithful. It didn't always work ..." he admitted, " ... but I tried. Our problem wasn't lack of love but the lack of myself being able to settle down, to commit to one person and one alone. Still, there was more to it then even that ..." He looked passed Isabelle, attempting to figure it out in his own head.  
  
"It wasn't that you didn't love her," Isabelle said, "it was that she wasn't the one you were supposed to be with." She dropped her carpet bag and ran her hands gently up Grief's smooth, well muscled arms.  
  
Grief again met Isabelle's eyes. It was true. He could not deny it.  
  
"Perhaps you were running away from that woman, the one who could change your life, but never knew why it was you ran. You, dear brave Captain David Grief, were *afraid*."  
  
"Maybe." Grief replied, pulling the woman to him, reveling in her warmth, sincerity and yes, her beauty and spirit. "But no more." He pulled her back with him, urging Isabelle to come to his bed, helping the woman to dispense with the jacket, revealing the bewitchingly sheer nightdress underneath.   
  
He smiled. She was always prepared.   
  
Their lips and bodies came together quickly and enthusiastically. Passions niether had ever experienced were shared. And later, when Grief held her in his arms, as she slept with her head on his chest, he understood something he couldn't have ever imagined when meeting this lovely lost soul over a year ago. She was right. They really did make sense.  
  
But, even more than that ... There was no word for what it was they shared because their love and the affection they shared was unique and rare. No words were needed between them now. "What we have here," Grief whispered, "is a wordless relationship." He inwardly chuckled then felt Isabelle stir beside him.  
  
"More than words ..." she whispered and in her sleep her lips once again reached for his.  
  
  
THE END  
Really this time.  
April 2002.  
Beckers 


End file.
